❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ i'm curious, i can't help it. ⸝⸝ otw era michael jackson x fem reader
│ summary: you and michael are friends, close enough where you two can talk about everything and anything that concerns whatever's on your mind. things get a little dicey after confessing some silly secrets, and it ends in curious bodies exploring each other's. │ byi: 18+ (smut, nfw.) oral (f receiving), protected p in v, missionary, both of you are virgins │ a/n: :P can we talk about how good he looks owmgkeajknj │ w/c: 4.3K (porn w out much plot)
You laid back into Michael's bed, knees coming up to act as your table for the magazine you were reading. The glossy pages of some fashion spread fluttered slightly as you shifted, the soft hum of a fan in the corner of his room cutting through the quiet.
It was late. Later than you usually stayed over. But the easy conversations you both held together stretched out longer than intended. Michael sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, reading something of his own, a story book that always ended with a noble hero saving the girl from danger.
You finally tilted your head to look at him, his dark curls framed his face, and the soft lamp light made his brown eyes look even warmer. "You know what Casey told me today?"
Michael looked up from his storybook, a small, curious smile tugging at his lips. "What?" His voice was soft, the way it always got when it was just the two of you.
You set the magazine aside and rolled onto your side to face him better. "She said that her and her boyfriend made love to each other the other night, after they went to the movies."
Michael's eyes widened slightly, his fingers pausing on the pages of his book. "They… did?" His voice came out quieter than usual, almost a whisper. He shifted a little on the bed, uncrossing his legs as he looked at you with that mix of curiosity.
You nodded, heart beating faster now that you'd said it out loud. "Yeah. She said it was nice, real nice."
You and Michael were super close to friends to the point where things that were said like this didn't embarrass you the way they might with anyone else. You told him everything that happened in your life, and he did the same with you. There were hardly any secrets you kept from each other.
You looked up at the ceiling, fiddling with your fingers as you continued, "You ever wonder what that feels like? Like, to do, it."
Michael was quiet for a long moment, the fan's hum filling the silence. His mother always taught him to be a gentleman and never talk about such things in front of a woman, especially with one. And it felt intimate, too intimate. A very pretty lady was asking him about sex, in his house, in his room, on his bed.
Michael swallowed hard, looking down at his hands, "Sometimes...," he admitted. "But I've never… I mean, I don't know anything about it. I'd probably be really bad at it." He laughed to himself despite the heat crawling up his neck.
You turned your head to look at him, smiling a little, "I don't know anything either. I think... I've only ever held a boy's hand. That's it."
Michael let out a soft, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks were burning now, the shyest you'd ever seen him. "Yeah… same. I've never even kissed anyone properly."
The room went silent again, the fan's gentle hum the only sound between you. You bit your lip, really unsure what you could say to ease the awkwardness of the trap you set for yourself. You could back out, pretend you were just messing with him, just to get a reaction out of him. But part of you was curious, curious to know what he hid in those pants.
Screw it, you thought.
You shifted a little closer on the bed, your knee brushing his. "We could… try it together?" you suggested softly.
Michael's eyes met yours, wide and honestly a little mortified. He swallowed hard, looking like he might melt into the bed. "R-right now?" he stammered, voice cracking on that last word.
You shrugged, doing your best to the play the nonchalant card even when millions of butterflies swam in your stomach. "Sure. If you want."
Michael stared at you for a few long seconds, and for a second you thought he was gonna call you a weirdo and drop the conversation. Instead, he opened his mouth, closed it, then finally nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "O-okay…"
To be honest, you weren't expecting him to actually agree. So now all the confidence caught up to you leaving you both sitting there in charged silence. You sucked in a breath and crawled over to him on the bed.
You pointed at his pants, "Well?"
For a second he looked like he wanted to disappear into the mattress, but he gave a tiny nod. "O-okay…" he whispered. His hands trembled as he fumbled for the button on his jeans. He stood up then, leaving you sitting on the bed facing him, more so his crotch.
He unzipped the zipper and spread the flaps open. He hesitated for a second when he reached for the waistband of his boxers.
You actually realized the gravity of the situation unfolding in front of you when you were in the eye line of Michael's bulge. You had seen him change in front of your countless times before, and you never had a reason to stare at him like you were right now. Hungry, depraved of something you've never had.
The thought of him showing you such a vulnerable and intimate side of him made the flutter in your stomach bloom into a warm heat between your thighs.
You reached out forward before you spoke, immediately pulling back, "Can... Can I see what's in here?"
Michael's breath caught in his throat, his whole body going tense like a startled deer. His hands hovered uselessly at his sides, fingers flexing as if he didn't know what to do with them.
"I… um… yeah," he whispered, voice small. "If you… if you really want to. Just… be gentle? Please?" His eyes darted everywhere but at you. Ceiling, floor, the half-open book still lying on the bed, anywhere except your face. He was trembling, thought he wasn't sure it was entirely out of fear.
Your fingers returned, gentler than before, and hooked into the waistband of his boxers. You tugged them down inch by inch, letting the fabric drag over his hips. When his length finally revealed itself, it was still growing to its full mast.
Michael let out a shaky exhale, like he couldn't believe this was happening. "Oh… gosh," he whispered, covering his face with both hands for a second before peeking through his fingers.
You sat there on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together, staring. He was pretty. A little longer than you'd imagined, the head a flushed pinkish brown, he was trimmed, too. You could see a small bead of liquid forming at the tip. The sight made that warm heat between your thighs pulse stronger.
"Can I… touch it?" you asked softly, glancing up at him.
He nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yes..." Though, it sounded more like he was begging for you to.
Your hand wrapped around him gently, and Michael's knees nearly buckled. A tiny, involuntary sound escaped his throat. "That… that feels… different when it's not my own hand,” he admitted in a rush.
You looked up at him through your lashes, teasing him, "You touch yourself?"
"I— I— well… sometimes," he stammered, clenching his hands behind his back. "But I've never—never told anyone that before. Especially not you." He finally snuck a peek at you, cheeks burning so hot you could practically feel the warmth. "Please don't think I'm weird…"
You smiled softly, your thumb brushing lightly along the underside of his length. He hips rocked forward slowly in your palm, another soft, breathy sound slipping from him.
"You're not weird, Michael," you whispered, voice warm and a little husky. "To honest I... I do it too. Sometimes. It's normal." Your eyes stayed on him, watching every little reaction as you gave him another gentle tug, learning the velvety feel of his skin. He was so smooth, warm, and it made you imagine all the things you wanted to do to him. He looked so vulnerable and sweet, coming completely undone at the simple touches you were giving to him.
"R-really?" he squeaked, eyes becoming glassy. He looked like he wanted to hide again, but he couldn't stop staring down at your small fingers wrapped around the size of him. "I bet you look... so pretty when you do." He gulped, throat working while his mouth parted ever so slightly.
You smiled at his shy little compliment, warmth blooming in your chest and between your legs. You weren't used to seeing Michael in such an intimate setting such as this. Completely bare, flushed all the way down his chest. "That's really sweet," you murmured, leaning in a little closer to him, almost being able to taste him just by the scent alone.
The clean, slightly musky warmth of him filled your senses as you hovered near his length, still carefully wrapped in your hand. You pressed a soft, experimental kiss right beneath the head, then another along the side, feeling him immediately tense.
Michael gasped sharply, one hand flying to your shoulder.
"O-oh… that— that feels…" His voice cracked into a soft whimper as you dragged your tongue lightly up the underside, exploring the taste and texture of him. "Your mouth is so warm. I— I don't know if I can stay standing if you keep doing that…"
He tasted almost exactly how you expected him to, like skin usually did when you went to clean your fingers after eating something messy. Except this time, it was doing complete wondering for your body, like he was releasing his own sorts of pheromones right into your mouth leaving you wanting for more.
You took your time exploring him with your mouth. Gentle licks, soft kisses, even taking just the head between your lips and sucking lightly while your hand stroked the rest. Every new thing you tried pulled another adorable sound from him. He was so sensitive, so vocal in his shyness. Every so often, his hips would make tiny, helpless little movements like he was fighting not to thrust into your mouth.
After a few minutes you pulled back, lips shiny, breathing harder. Michael looked down at you with glassy, dazed eyes, cheeks burning.
"You're… really good at that," he whispered, sounding every bit stunned. "I almost… I was really close."
You smiled at him, standing up finally, "Really? That was honestly my first time ever doing something like that."
Michael nodded, watching as you moved to unbutton your own jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off while you laid back onto the bed with your elbows holding you up.
His eyes followed every movement, dark and wide with awe as your panties came off next. You were completely bare in front of him now, and Michael looked like he forgot how to breathe.
He stared between your legs for a long moment, cheeks burning, before his gaze flicked back up to your face.
"You're… so beautiful," he whispered, voice barely audible as he sunk to his knees slowly to get a better view of you.
His hands rested lightly on your thighs as he took everything in. The way you glistened, the soft pink folds, how you parted for him when you relaxed your legs a little more. He was completely mesmerized.
"Can I… touch you?" he asked in that tiny voice, eyes flicking up to yours for permission.
When you nodded, he reached out with trembling fingers and used both of his thumbs to open you up a little, "Wow…" he breathed, voice full of wonder. "It's so pretty and pink… and you're really wet." One finger traced slowly along your slit, spreading the wetness.
You shivered a little, surprised with the careful and tender coming in contact with your heat. He let his fingers trace your mound carefully, before he began his quest to find that little bundle of nerves.\
When his fingertip brushed over your it, your thighs clenched and a soft sound escaped you. Michael's eyes shot up to your face immediately.
"Was that okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked anxiously.
You shook your head, leaning forward a little, "No, that felt really good. Too good. Keep doing that... please."
Michael's nodded quickly, eyes content with focus. "O-okay… I'll keep doing it just like that," he whispered. His fingertip returned to your nub, pressing it down ever so firmly, then rubbing slow, careful circles. He watched your face the entire time, studying every little reaction.
"Like this?" he asked softly, adding a second finger to stroke alongside the first.
You responded with your body, your head falling back against the pillow as a soft moan escaped your lips. The little pressure he was putting on your sensitive numb was sending such warm sensations up your spine and making your cheeks flush. You let his name slip past your lips quietly, "Michael..."
The sound of his name in your moan made his stomach flutter. He loved the way you were sprawled out under his hands, a helpless little thing squirming and wanting more. Wanting him. He bit his own lip to keep from making any sounds, his hips were hopelessly rutting against nothing but air, seeking any sort of friction.
He continued to work you thoroughly, fighting all his might to not dive in and taste you himself. He kept rubbing your nub in those circles, occasionally dipping a finger inside you just to feel how soaked you were. Each time he did, he pulled another adorable whine from you.
"I… I think I need you inside me now," you breathed, sitting up and placing your hand on his bare chest.
Michael's breath hitched at your touch, his heart pounding wildly under your palm. "O-okay… yeah. Sure." He leaned forward to grab a condom from his drawer, a move that made you suspiciously raise an eyebrow.
You watched him begin to rip the wrapper off when you asked, teasingly, "You have condoms in your dresser?"
Michael stopped mid-motion, cheeks exploding with fresh heat as he looked anywhere but at you. "I— um— they're new, I never opened the box." he stammered. "I never thought I'd actually use one. I swear—"
You smiled, letting out a little giggle, "It's fine who you do it with Michael..."
Michael still looked mortified, but your sarcasm seemed to ease him a little. He finally pulled the condom out of the wrapper, carefully grabbing his own length to cover himself. But you stopped him before he did, taking the condom in your own hands.
"Can I do it?"
Michael's eyes flicked to yours. "Y-yeah… if you want to," he whispered. He let go, hands hovering uselessly at his sides while you rolled the condom down his length with agonizing slowness. You took your time smoothing it out, stroking him through the latex once it was on, watching the way his thighs trembled. His hands clenched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to cover himself or pull you closer.
You glanced up at him with a small, reassuring smile. "Just making sure it's on right."
He nodded quickly, cheeks flushed deep red.
You gave him one last gentle squeeze before letting go and scooting back on the bed, lying down on your back first. Your legs parted a little on instinct. He followed you with weary eyes, unsure where to put himself next.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
"Um… how do we…?" Michael started, then swallowed hard. "I mean, I know how, but—"
You reached for his hand, pulling him gently between your legs. "Come here. We'll figure it out together…" Your voice was soft, trying to keep things light even though your heart was racing.
Michael nodded, crawling over you on shaky arms. His body hovered above yours, the tip of his condom-covered length brushing against your thigh. He looked down between you, stomach fluttering, clearly overwhelmed by the sight.
"I… I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, voice barely there. One hand fumbled awkwardly as he tried to line himself up.
You nodded, sucking in a breath. "S'okay. Just... be slow." You reached under your thighs to pull your legs back, opening yourself more for him.
"O-okay… slow," he repeated to himself like a mantra. He gripped the base of his length with one trembling hand and guided the tip back to your entrance. His head nudged against your heat, slipping easily along your folds as he struggled to breech you properly.
After a couple of fumbling attempts, the tip finally caught and pushed inside. The stretch was immediate. Tight and a little uncomfortable at first. It felt incredibly new, something that did belong, but also did not have the capacity to feel entirely comfortable being inside. Little tears pricked at the corner of your eyes when you winced at the feeling.
Michael stopped moving, eyes soft with worry as he hovered above you. "Oh no… you're crying. I hurt you, didn't I?" His whispered, full of guilt. "I'll pull out— I'm so sorry, I knew I'd be bad at this—"
"It’s okay," you whispered, blinking the tears away and reaching to hold his wrist. "It's just… really full. Stay still for a second. Please?"
He nodded slowly, shifting his weigh to stay focused on the arms holding him up above you. His chest was rising and falling heavily, already overwhelmed by the warmth embracing the tip of him, attempting to suck him in deeper. He tried to keep his mind elsewhere, because if he thought about the feeling too hard, he was sure he'd lose it right then and there.
After a few long breaths, the sharp discomfort started to ease into something warmer and fuller. You shifted your hips to feel around, and Michael tensed.
"You try to move now… just a little," you encouraged softly, moving your hand from his wrist to his forearm.
Michael swallowed and gave a tiny, testing thrust. His rhythm was inconsistent and uncertain at first. Shallow, jerky little movements that sometimes slipped out and had to be nudged back in. He was so nervous about it, he apologized every time he faltered even for just a second.
His length dragged deliciously along your walls, the veins on him pressing directly on every sensitive nerve inside you like it knew what it was doing. He kept changing pace and switching his angle, eventually enough to the point where the tip of him was kissing persistently on the little spongy spot with every thrust. The feeling was magical, something your body was definitely not used to. And Michael had the natural instinct that made it feel even better with each passing second.
You whimpered softly, turning your head to the side, "Michael… right there, don't stop…"
The way you sounded made his stomach flutter erratically, and his rhythm faltered for a moment. But he picked up again, now driven by pure desperation. Every time he brushed that spot, you moaned a little louder, and it only made Michael fall apart faster.
You felt perfect. Your gummy warm walls enveloped him lovingly, squeezing and fluttering around him with every thrust. You were so slick, warm, and tight around him. The sensation was driving him crazy.
"I… I can't hold it," he whimpered, another whine slipping through. His hips stuttered, the rhythm turning frantic and uneven. "You feel too good… I'm trying so hard but— ah— I'm gonna—"
It was too much. You looked like a portrait out of heaven. Your hair was tousled across the bed spread, your cheeks were flushed pink, the look in your eyes made him wanna take pity on you but also keep chasing that high.
With one final push, he buried himself deep and came hard. His whole body tensed and shuddered on top of you, a soft whine escaping his lips as he spilled into the condom. His hips gave a few helpless twitches before he finally stilled, panting heavily.
"I'm sorry… I...," he whispered full of embarrassment as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. "You were feeling so good and I just… couldn't last. I'm really bad at this..." He carefully pulled himself out of you, tying off the condom with shaky fingers before setting it aside.
You smiled despite the lack of your own release, gently running your fingers through his curls. "Hey… it's okay, Michael. It was our first time. It felt really good for a while, and you did amazing."
He peeked up at you, eyes glassy and still bits shy. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" His voice was so uncertain.
You shook your head, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I mean it. I almost finished."
Michael let out a little laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. He stayed curled against you, his hand gently tracing on your bare hip. "I still feel bad though… you didn't get to finish. Can I… can I try to make you feel good now? With my fingers again? Or… or my mouth if you'll show me how?"
The way he looked at you: like he'd do anything to please you, made your stomach flutter.
You nodded, sitting up again. "Sure, you can taste me, Michael."
He bit his lip, excitement washing over his face. He nodded quickly, voice barely above a whisper. "Okay… just tell me what feels good. I've never… I don't want to do it wrong."
You lay back again, parting your legs for him as he moved down the bed, settling between your thighs on his stomach. Michael stared for a long moment, mesmerized all over again, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.
"You're so pretty down here," he murmured, almost reverent. "All pink and wet…" The thought seemed to make him squirm.
With trembling hands, he gently spread you open like he had earlier, then leaned in hesitantly. His first touch was just a soft, experimental kiss right on your swollen nub.
When you let out a little sigh, he pulled back slightly, eyes flicking up to your face. "Was that okay?"
"Yeah… keep going. Use your tongue too."
Michael nodded, pressing another kiss before dragging his tongue slowly up your slit. The warm, wet feeling made you moan softly, and that seemed to give him confidence. He started licking more confidently with gentle, curious strokes, exploring every inch of you with soft little sounds of his own.
"Mm… you taste really good," he whispered between licks. "So sweet..." He found your nub again and circled it with the tip of his tongue, copying the motions he'd used with his fingers earlier. Every moan you gave made him whimper quietly against you.
You threaded your fingers through his curls, guiding him gently. "Right there, don't— don't stop please—"
He obeyed instantly, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking softly while his tongue flicked. His tenacity was still a little hesitant, ensuring every little thing he did was solely good for you. He was so focused, so determined to learn exactly what made you feel good, checking your face constantly for approval.
"Michael… yes, just like that," you breathed, hips rocking toward his mouth.
The praise made him moan into you, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He kept going, getting bolder. Licking, sucking, even dipping his tongue inside you. His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded as he lost himself in pleasing you.
The pressure built fast, your thighs starting to tremble around his head. "I'm gonna—"
Michael doubled his efforts, sucking a little harder on your nub while his tongue worked you perfectly. That pushed you over the edge. Pleasure crashed through you in warm waves, moaning his name as you came on his tongue.
He kept licking you gently through it, only slowing when your body relaxed. When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were shiny, eyes struck awe and a little smile.
"Did I… do it right?" he asked breathlessly, crawling up to cuddle you close. "I really liked tasting you."
You pulled him in for a deep kiss, letting him taste yourself on his tongue. Michael melted into it with a soft groan.
"Are you kidding?" You asked breathlessly, one hand going to cup his face while the other was placed flat against his chest. "You were perfect," you whispered against his lips.
Michael's eyes fluttered open, a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Really? I was scared I'd mess it up… I loved the sounds you made…" He trailed off, hiding his face in your neck, embarrassed by his own words. "I could do that for hours if you let me."
You laughed softly, stroking his curls as he clung to you, warm and clingy. The fan continued its gentle hum in the corner, the room still thick with the intimate, charged atmosphere.
"I really liked doing... this, with you, Mike." You whispered gently, rubbing his bare back gently.
He let out a content little sigh, nuzzling closer into your chest. "Me too… A lot actually."
You bite your lip, gaze flicking down to look at him, "We could... do that again sometime. If you want."
Michael's head lifted just enough for you to see his eyes, those long lashes fluttering as he processed your words. He looked so soft and overwhelmed, like he couldn’t quite believe any of this had happened—let alone that you wanted more. "R-really?" he whispered. He shifted against you, one arm draping loosely over your waist. "You… you'd want to do it again? With me? Really."
You nodded, with a little shrug. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought… I mean, I finished so fast and everything was kinda… messy. I kept messing up. A lot."
You smiled, brushing a curl away from his face. "I already told you; you did really good."
